


Well in Hand, Chris/Karl, PG-13, RPF

by blcwriter



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: LiveJournal, M/M, Schmoop, fic import
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter





	Well in Hand, Chris/Karl, PG-13, RPF

Ridiculous schmoop for [today's Daily Captain and Doctor](http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/199702.html?view=4594198#t4594198) at [](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/profile)[**jim_and_bones**](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/)  , because [](http://abigail89.livejournal.com/profile)[**abigail89**](http://abigail89.livejournal.com/)  would go and put up the most tempting "wedding photos" of Chris and Karl ever.  (Members-locked as to photos.)  I couldn't resist.

Handsy, possessive!Karl, three-piece-suited!Chris.  And, um, schmoop.  Lots.

\--

“Chris, over here!!!”

The photographers’ calls were unending, and rather than try and look at any particular one, he just walked a few feet, stopped, adjusted his posture so he wouldn’t be stooped—his publicist always lit into him when his posture was lousy, “I got you those Ralph Lauren suits and you slouch!”—and stood for a moment as he tried neither to frown nor squint from all of the flashing. Truth be told, he had a bitch of a headache, and he had the whole movie to sit through—again. He was tired, his suit was a little too hot for the weather, no matter how good _some_ people said it might look, and he hated this gauntlet of press with everything in him.

“Chris! Christopher! Pine, baby, smile for me!”

A particularly bleached blonde and plastic-surgeried entertainment reporter stuck a mic in his face. He managed some kind of response, once that must have been pretty coherent, not that he didn’t have his responses memorized so that he could give them in his sleep. She asked some more questions, he answered, she smiled, he played the game and smiled back because that’s how things were done, and then she ran her hand up the vest and tugged at his tie, mussing it from the knot he’d worked so fucking hard at.

“Three piece suit—not many guys could pull that look off, but I could pull that look right off of you,” she said, smiling broad for the camera. Chris managed not to frown—that or smack her away, because four-in-hands were damned hard to tie and now it was mussed. But he didn’t need to get all bitchy with whatever-her-name was, so he just demurred.

“Unfortunately, the suit has to go back unrumpled and clean in the morning.” He gave her his sweetest, most innocent Disney Prince smile, even as she prepared for some flirty rejoinder.

“His publicist is an absolute bear. You’d never believe the reaming she gave me when I spilled some wine once on one of his sleeves at a party,” said a warm, mellow voice at his ear. There was a broad hand at the small of his back, and Chris didn’t even need to turn round to know it was Karl, how close he was standing—because he could feel the heat of him as he stood practically on top of Chris and literally muscled his way into the blonde woman’s space until she wasn’t touching Chris any more.

Not that she seemed to notice—Karl was imposing that way, and when he made you an object of _focus_ , as he was doing to her, even with his hand on Chris’ back and the heat of him warming Chris’ side— so she asked one or two questions that made Chris laugh and clap aloud because it was _Karl_ and he just couldn't help it. She blinked hard a few times, and the next thing she knew, they were done and the two of them had moved on.

“Chris! Karl! Over here!” one of the photographers called.

Chris turned even as Karl turned inward toward him, hand on his back pulling him hard to his side. “Surprised you didn’t whip it out and pee on my leg,” Chris muttered under his breath, before they posed, straight-faced for the cameras. Afterward, he stopped to straighten his tie, then couldn’t suppress a laugh as Karl grunted and took over the job, then patted him once on the side of the cheek—a mere friendly gesture to anyone else.

“Nah. Too afraid of your publicist. Peed on _her_ , though. Those Jimmy Choos were damned ugly, and what was up with that weave on her head? Where’d she go? Hilda’s House of Nasty Extensions? Stupid cow. Only one pulling this look off of you is going to be _me_ , damnit, and don’t you forget it.”

As Karl headed in toward the theater just slightly ahead, a small smirk on his face, Chris threw his head back and laughed at Karl’s outright jealous snarkery—as if he had anything to worry about.

With the feel of Karl’s hand still warm on his back and light on his cheek, he headed into the cool dark of the theater. He had a boyfriend's hand to go find and hold once the lights went down, after all.  



End file.
